


Necessary Evil

by KysisTheBard



Series: Bitter Sirens [6]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Action, F/M, M/M, Media Warfare, Psychological Warfare, Thriller, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-16 08:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KysisTheBard/pseuds/KysisTheBard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loki was brought back to Earth for a World Trial, Fury expected all the ducks to get in a row and for a Jotunn head to roll.  It backfired, and now Tony Stark has set Loki free, seeing something of himself in the "war criminal".  The worst is yet to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blackout

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Part 6 of Bitter Sirens. The pace is about to make a major shift. Okay, everything’s about to make a major shift. I’m sorry the last part’s pacing was all over the place. I’m glad to finally be done with it, though. As for this one… it’s a reaction chapter, for the most part. Necessary for the story, at least. Thank you guys for being so damn patient with me.

It was impossible not to notice when the Stark Tower went dark. It started at the base, one row of bright white lights clicking off after another. Clint could see it on the wall next to him, reflected in the stone face of the café. Soon enough, Manhattan was a lot darker than it had been in a while.

Clint raised his hand, signaling over the waiter. Even at night, there were lights on in the Tower. Clint turned in his chair, looking up at the monolith. Nothing. Not even the sign was lit. He frowned, shifting his weight to pull out his wallet. It figured that the first night he really took off to relax, something happened.

A light caught his eye when the waiter came with his bill. Clint turned, squinting up at the landing on the tower. That was the Iron Man armor, no mistaking it. From there it didn’t look red and gold, but it could be the sudden lack of light. What he could see, though, were the thrusters on the suit, a bright streak as he took off from the Tower.

Stark must have been making repairs to the arc reactor powering everything, or updating it. He was always upgrading everything.

Clint went back to his bill, taking his time now. There was nothing to worry about.

0 0 0 0 0

The gun shook, only for a moment as she steadied her fingers, turning white from the pressure, and her breaths, which had been in quick gasps. She couldn’t see her gun, couldn’t even see her arms in the sudden darkness. There were no windows, nowhere for even a shred of light to come from, and that was worse than the darkness itself.

Arc reactors did not just stop working.

Natasha reached her fingers forward, flicking the switch for her laser sight. The thin beam of red didn’t do much, but it was something. She could see her gun, the edges highlighted with the crimson glow, and the air between her and where the dot hit. With that, she turned the end of it, opening up the iris at the tip. The dot vanished, but the red glow acted like a flashlight, a dim and barely useful flashlight, but that was better than the last option.

“Jarvis, are you there?”

Silence greeted her. In a normal power outage, everything would switch to reserve energy. She knew Stark had upgraded the arc reactor powering the tower, had the old prototype as a backup. She waited, holding her breath.

The reserves did not switch on. Nothing switched on. Natasha pressed the communicator on her wrist, lifting it to her mouth. “This is Agent Romanoff. Can anyone read me?” She let go of the button, pointing her gun outward again. There wasn’t even static in response.

This was something a lot more serious than a power outage.

0 0 0 0 0

The S.H.I.E.L.D. floor was an angry hive, kicked a few too many times. Agents in nice suits wearing headsets were all tightening the straps of Kevlar vests and checking clips of ammunition, going through a full 180 metamorphosis in a matter of minutes. If there was an immediate threat, that would have been too long of a delay.

Coulson lifted his radio, pressing the button with a firm click. “Radio check, one, two, three.”

“Check confirmed, unit 52.” “Check confirmed, unit 34.” “Check confirmed, unit 89.” Coulson checked off the numbers as they were called out, holding his flashlight steady in the same hand as his radio.

It was old fashioned, but right now, that’s all they could rely on. SI’s servers were down. The power was down. They needed to secure the perimeter and assess the situation as quickly as possible. That involved communication. Organization. Calmness.

Now that they were communicating, they could move on to the organization phase. Coulson ran his thin beam of light down the list, checking for any openings on it. There were a few.

“How’s the check going?”

“We’re still not hearing from multiple agents.” Coulson knew what the next step was. He pressed the button again, standing perfectly still as he spoke. “Unit 25, can you hear me?” He took his finger off the button and waited. Nothing. He circled the unit number and moved to the next. “Unit 3, respond.” Nothing. Circled. “Unit 7, respond.”

“Agent Romanoff reporting. Unit 7 can hear you loud and clear.”

“What’s your current position?” Coulson checked it off, tapping his pencil on the desk as he waited.

“I’ve secured my floor and am now searching for supplies to force the lock on the stairwell.”

“Stay put for now.” Coulson skimmed the list again, finding his place. “Unit 12, can you read me?” Nothing from that one, either. He frowned, tracing the number over to the name. Captain Rogers. Coulson frowned deeper, forcing down the urge to go hunt for him immediately. He had to get everyone organized first, then they could handle search and rescue. There was just a few more. “Unit 146, copy. Unit 13, respond. Unit 93, are you there?”

Agent Barton, unit 3, still hadn’t responded. Nor had Mr. Stark, unit 13. Phil tapped his pencil again, looking at the other numbers.

Unit 146 and unit 93 were scheduled to guard duty in Containment.

“Director, we have an issue.”

Fury turned, still fitting an earpiece for his radio into place. He had a group of agents spreading out maps across every clear table they could pull to the center of the floor, a make-shift command center. “What’s the problem?”

“The agents positioned in Containment are not responding.”

“Radio them again.” Fury started shining his light on agents, waving them aside quickly. Soon there were small groups, three minimum, though there were a few of four. The moment Coulson shook his head to signal continued radio darkness, Fury waved one of the groups of four over to him, giving a final nod.

It was time to actually meet Loki face to face again.

0 0 0 0 0

“What’s the situation?” Natasha set the radio on the dresser, sharply zipping the front of her suit. In a matter of seconds, her gauntlets were clicking on, buzzing with blue energy. She took her flashlight, gun, and radio back up, waiting for the response.

It was Fury responding this time. “We are sending teams to secure each level of the tower currently. Coulson is leading the team for Containment.”

Natasha pressed the button immediately, almost cutting him off. “Is that a good idea?”

“We need an immediate response before matters have a chance to get out of hand.”

“With all due respect, it looks like they already have.” Natasha checked her clip, sliding it back to place. That done, she seated her headset and microphone, giving it a few taps.

“Report to the main floor. I’ll assign you to a team.”

“Where’s Agent Barton?” Natasha opened the drawer in front of her, pulling out four more empty clips and loading them with a practiced precision. She had to keep moving. Even a moment’s pause might be a moment too much.

“Not answering. Neither is Captain America or Iron Man.”

“I doubt Stark would use a radio.” Natasha tapped all the clips into their cases, clicking them shut. Everything secure, she started back for the stairwell entrance. It was for emergency purposes only, but the locks were electronic. Either that, or they’d been set to lock electronically before the outage occurred, which raised even more issues.

“Agent Romanoff.”

“I’m heading up. Agent Barton may still be off campus. That leaves the Captain and Stark. I’ll start with the former. Keep me updated.”

She was sure there was a sigh, but it was cut out, the beep only sounding once Fury was talking again. “A team with meet with you on Captain America’s floor. Do not proceed without them.” Natasha rolled her eyes, but agreed.

0 0 0 0 0

When the dust cleared from the blast, he could see they were too late. Coulson stepped in first, gun and flashlight raised. It cut a thin white beam through the blackness, barely enough to see with, but all they had underground right now.

There were two downed guards. His team went to them first, checking for pulses. They were just unconscious, thankfully. Coulson kept moving forward, straight for the open doors of the glass cage, which was empty. There was no sign of Loki whatsoever. Coulson closed his eyes, letting out a slow, shaky breath.

“HQ, we’ve got bad news.” Coulson held on to the button on the radio, trying to collect his report, not wanting a response quite yet to scatter his thoughts. “The captive is loose. Repeat, the captive is loose.”

0 0 0 0 0

Every S.H.I.E.L.D. operative must have been holding their breath for that news. Natasha was. The other agents with her were. The Tower went silent, and when the news hit, it felt like something broke.

“I’ll suit up.”

Natasha nodded, but not even that was needed. Rogers was already out of the room, and she could hear him preparing for battle.

This had been planned. It had to have been planned. Catching Rogers in a place which had the capability of locking down, seeing to it that Banner was gone, Barton was not in the Tower, SI communications knocked out. Natasha added it all up in her head, but still couldn’t place who it could be, unless it was Loki himself.

That was a possibility they could not rule out.

Finally, she clicked the button on her radio. “We need to send a team up to the penthouse now. If no Starktech is working, that means Stark himself is defenseless.”

“Go. We’re sending reinforcements.”

“If Loki’s intention was escape, he already would have gone.”

“A team of six is coming up from Agent Barton’s level. I’ve also ordered Coulson’s team to come as well, though it will take a while.”

“Fine. We’re going.”

0 0 0 0 0

After being trapped in the darkness of his own shower for what felt like ages, a deep seated fear threatening to take over again, the penthouse level of Stark Tower looked bright, almost light even.

Maybe bright was the wrong word for it, given what they were faced with.

The suits were all gone. Steve had only been on that floor once, when they rounded up Loki the first time, and there had been suits lining one wall, the wall which connected to the fully stocked bar. The bar looked a lot emptier as well, but he wasn’t entirely sure.

Steve paused by a small table next to the couch, lifting up a little framed photograph. In the dim light, he could only make out the basics: it was Bruce and Tony, somewhere with water in the background, smiling. Tony had an arm around Bruce’s shoulders. It looked like Bruce was fiddling with something on his wrist. Steve squinted, then put the photo down slowly.

“No sign of Stark or any of his equipment. Looks like it was all shipped out.” Natasha stood in the center of the room, mostly a silhouette but no less commanding. He straightened his posture a little, readjusting his grip on the shield. “It doesn’t look like a hostage situation.”

Steve’s stomach flipped at that thought. Just two hours ago, he’d been standing guard over Loki. He looked defeated, resigned, more likely just to fade away in the background than fight. In fact, nothing about him seemed like an animal backed into a corner. Steve knew that look. He knew how dangerous it could be.

“I don’t think Loki was planning on breaking out.”

Everyone turned, staring straight at him. Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed, streaks of red in the half-light, and then her eyes widened.

The stairwell door banged open, Coulson and his team coming in. Coulson walked straight for them, waving for the others to go away. “I thought you should be the first to know.” He looked between them, taking a deep breath. His hands on his hips might have seen nonchalant, if it wasn’t Coulson. “The guards from Containment woke up.”

Steven turned, frowning. “What did they say?”

“Stark pulled the pin.”


	2. Crippling

There was a shadow. Now, whenever there was the presence of light, there would always be shadows. That was a proven point of science. This wasn’t that kind of shadow, though. Shadows like that didn’t watch you.

Maybe he was just being paranoid. He’d been doing a lot of that lately.

Tony leaned back, kicking his feet up on second thought. His personal jet. His rules. Simple as that. Tony flicked off his shoes while he was at it, letting them flop wherever they felt like. Slowly, he flicked between screens on his tablet.

For the first hour, everything should be complete radio darkness. Anyone seeking responses wouldn’t even get error messages. It was like the servers were fried. Well, like was… a weak word for that.

They were fried. All important data on the Stark Industries servers was fine. He’d made backups. No groundbreaking research was going to be lost. Tony snorted at that thought, continuing to flip. 

It didn’t look like anyone had figured out what was going on yet, nor had they rerouted the power, keeping everything nice and dark at the Tower. A few of the buildings around the Tower had security cameras, and he was watching them carefully. Now and then, he’d see a faint light, probably a flashlight, not enough to really pay attention to.

“Warm towel?”

Tony glanced up, eyeing the towel and the tongs holding it out. He shook his head, quickly waving the stewardess off. She didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong. Then again, he had plugged JARVIS in the moment he was on the plane, because otherwise, all their systems would have been offline. It was a quick save. He was good at those.

Now, the backlash on his “quick saves” was looming. That always happened. The smoke would clear eventually. He couldn’t just keep SI’s systems down indefinitely. That’d be crippling him far more than it would be crippling S.H.I.E.L.D. Hell, keeping it down this long was walking the line.

Tony tapped his finger on the glass screen, expanding the view from one camera before flicking it aside. Still no lights. He glanced at his watch.

Three.

Two.

One.

The sign sputtered to life, one letter after the next, until STARK was lit up in bright blue again, the SI slash joining it. The lights started at the top floor, working their way down.

The smoke was clearing. He had to get on damage control pronto.

0 0 0 0 0

They all threw their arms up at once. There was no point denying it; Coulson was right there with them, shielding his eyes from the sudden bright light. The last time he had been in the penthouse, he didn’t remember it being that bright. There must have been modifications. Either that, or they were always turned on low.

Slowly, everyone recovered. Well, they recovered from the light. The news was an entirely different matter. He was doing his best to keep a straight face, the type that won poker tournaments, as to not influence the situation negatively.

That was, of course, very difficult. From the look Agent Romanoff was shooting him, with one of those bright red brows arched in a silent question none of the others would likely get, she saw right through the mask. He didn’t budge, though. She knew the line they needed to tread with S.H.I.E.L.D., knew the pace to which Fury required they waltz.

She wasn’t the issue.

“You think this is Tony’s fault?”

Coulson closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, swallowing his immediate, gut response. Following his gut had ended with an alien spear driven through him, right above his heart, nearly severing an artery and some very important vascular tissue. He had to keep it in check.

“This is not open for discussion.”

“Is this because of his testimony?” Captain America pressed on, chiseled features set, authoritative, demanding. A year ago, he would have caved to anything the good Captain said. Things were different now. Even as Captain America kept glaring him down, Coulson couldn’t give.

“No.”

“There’s gotta be more to it.”

“We need to get back down to central command. From there, we can start organizing—”

“Organizing for what?”

“Steve.” Agent Romanoff cut him off. She straightened herself, still holding her pistol and flashlight between her hands, entirely ready. “He’s right. We can figure out what’s going on when we get down there.”

After a moment, what looked like a very hard fought one, Captain America finally stood down, giving a small nod in concession. Good. Coulson really didn’t want to pull out his taser.

0 0 0 0 0

The shadow was still there. The more he ignored it, the more he seemed to notice it. Great. Just what he needed. Tony pursed his lips, glaring down at the tablet in his lap.

A lot could happen in the span of a few hours. Even more when S.H.I.E.L.D. was directly involved, which he’d seen firsthand more than once. He wouldn’t deny their productivity. It was a bit too important to ignore. He had to keep tabs on everything.

He did have tabs _for_ everything, at least. Tony flicked through them, resyncing himself with all the security cameras manually, since JARVIS wasn’t in there to jack him directly through. It was a distraction, which was what mattered.

Sadly, distractions didn’t make the shadow go away, either. It was still there. Sometimes it was by the windows. Sometimes it was by the table. Others it was by the long, low couch, which he was currently sprawled out on, hunks of armor all around him. That last one gave him the chills and made him a lot more nervous than he’d ever admit out loud.

Still. Virus. Go.

Tony pressed the button, leaning back. He’d just hook his arms behind his head and watch it go. Kind of like fireworks, only more… _him_.

0 0 0 0 0

“Computers are all booting up. We’ve got lights, heat, and a way to get information. Get to it.” Fury set his radio down, testing his ear piece again. It was still static. Damn. He should just take the thing off already. Systems likely wouldn’t be at full speed for a few hours—then again, it was Stark Industries. Their half speed was faster than the rest of the world’s full speed.

“Reporting in, Director.” Coulson stopped not far from him, his merry little group of Avengers and Agents just behind him. They weren’t smiling. “There is no sign of Mr. Stark.”

Fury narrowed his eye, giving Coulson a quick one-over. On second thought, he turned his gaze over to Rogers, giving him a deeper look. Rogers wasn’t trained to keep his cool. He was trying his damnedest, but Fury could still see through it.

“Looks like there is more to the story.”

“We can’t say anything conclusively yet.” Coulson turned his head slightly to the side, enough that Fury could tell he was fighting hard not to glare at Rogers. They were on the same page. Good. That’d make things easier. “It appears as though a majority of Mr. Stark’s equipment is missing.”

“Missing?” Fury paused, hands on his hips. “That much equipment doesn’t just go missing. Seven Iron Man suits don’t just go missing.”

Coulson finally looked down. Defeat. For him, at least. This was a victory, at least a partial one, for Fury. Maybe he’d get some straight answers now.

“If the computers are up and running, we can see if there are any records of his equipment being moved.” Romanoff stepped forward, swiveling neatly on a heel for the nearest terminal. Coulson actually did shoot her a glance, but everyone ignored it, because this was the first lead they’d really have. Romanoff had a point. That much equipment would leave a paper trail.

Fury motioned towards the other computers, taking a station for himself. Even Rogers tried helping, though the man probably wouldn’t get far. He could use a computer, and was actually settling in to the Twenty-First Century quite nicely, from all the reports which had crossed his desk, but this was a bit more advanced.

That, and Fury’s log-in wasn’t working. Romanoff was frowning something fierce, so hers must have been locked out as well. There went Coulson. Rogers was still bent over his station, but it’d only be a matter of moments.

“It looks as though we are locked out.” Coulson tapped his fingers beside the keyboard and then tried again.

All the screens lit up right about then. The S.H.I.E.L.D. logo melted. Fury blinked, turning off the screen, turning it on again. The logo was still gone. Blue screened. All of the computers were blue screened.

“Anyone have access to anything?”

“No, Director. Everything’s locking up.”

“How’s StarkTech running?”

“SI servers are all stable. It’s just the S.H.I.E.L.D. ones.” Romanoff kept typing, brows pulling in further and further as she kept at it. From where he was standing, it didn’t look like she was getting too far, though it was leaps and bounds past the rest of them.

After a moment of silence, other than the keys, she finally straightened, letting out one of those long sighs that just sung of bad news.

“He’s crippled us.”

0 0 0 0 0

This wasn’t like Tony. Okay, maybe it was, but it wasn’t like Tony now. Tony now didn’t randomly move all his stuff and grab a jet whenever it pleased him, right when all of SI’s servers went haywire and the news stations were going crazy about the Tower in NYC going dark. Tony before the accident, maybe.

Thankfully, Happy picked up the phone, and they were on the way to the airport within half an hour.

Pepper kept checking her phone. No updates. No messages from him. He wasn’t picking up, either. The systems were running again, and the preliminary reports she was getting back said everything was perfectly fine. There was a full back-up made just before the outage, so that saved it all.

There was nothing wrong. She just had to take a few breaths, a few deep breaths, and everything would be all right.

Right?

Happy finally pulled to a stop, and almost before he had it parked, her door was open and she was out. They were pulling the stairs up to the jet. Perfect timing. Pepper straightened her hair, smoothing her hand over it a few times before finally pulling it back. She probably should straighten her suit, too. She’d thrown it all on so fast. She tugged at her jacket a few times, and then just settled on it, posting herself like a smiling statue at the base of the stairs.

Maybe she should be frowning. Or meet him at the door. It was too late, because the door was already open and there was Tony, a briefcase in one hand, tablet in the other, a pristine business suit finishing it all off.

“Is everything okay?”

Tony glanced up, eyebrow immediately shooting up. Pepper took another deep breath, forced her smile back, and clasped her hands together hard. There. That would keep everything in check, she just had to take this one thing at a time.

“Um… yes? Why wouldn’t it be?”

See, there was nothing to worry about at all. Pepper looked down at her heels, then back over her shoulder. Happy was waiting just outside the car, watching, probably listening, too. She had to keep calm. “What about the Tower?”

“Implementing some new features. It needed a hard reboot. Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh.” Pepper didn’t remember any software updates. And why would the power go out if it was just software? She opened her mouth to ask another question, but Tony was already waving her off.

“Long day. Can I catch a lift? I mean, you did take my driver.” Tony smiled and waved awkwardly to Happy, who didn’t budge. “Of course I can. Let’s go.” And off he went. Just as usual.

0 0 0 0 0

“Slow down. One at a time. What’s the status?”

They were in the conference room, even though the screen behind Fury’s chair was frozen, scrambled code flashing across it. Everyone was assembled, for the most part. Clint had come back, and was sitting next to her, getting the first glimpse of the mess they were in now. Rogers was across from him. Agent Hill was next to Fury, Coulson across from her.

The three empty seats, one for Stark, one for Bruce, and one for Thor, seemed bigger than ever, elephants in the room, and no one would look directly at them. She couldn’t blame them. She didn’t want to look at them either.

What could they have done differently?

Did it even matter now?

Probably not.

“It’s a virus. An extremely sophisticated virus. Every time one of our technicians gets a lock on where the code is running, it scrambles our systems and mutates, so we have to start from square one again.”

Fury frowned deeper, much motioned for Agent Hill to keep going.

“Stark Industries servers are fully operational and 100% stable. This virus is only attacking S.H.I.E.L.D. databases. Any computer which tries logging in to the S.H.I.E.L.D. mainframe is instantly infected and locked out entirely.”

Silence fell again. It was a silence in two parts. One, it was the silence of deep thought. Everyone was extending every bit of tech savvy they had to try to find an answer none of them were likely capable of. Two, it was the silence of the shaken. None of them were expecting this. None of them could have expected this, much less have been ready for it.

Three, it was the silence of betrayal.

“There’s only one person I know of who would be capable of not only creating such a virus, but of gaining access to the S.H.I.E.L.D. server to plant it.” Natasha glanced up at the ceiling, waiting for some kind of rebuttal, some kind of built in defensive response.

That was the last part of the silence. It was absence. A void. Everything had been gutted, and now they were left with nothing.

“Initial reports are suggesting that.” Agent Hill let out a huff, looking directly at Stark’s chair. Everyone followed her line of sight and knew, if they didn’t already, who they were talking about.

“Right now, our hands are tied. We’re going to have to do this the old fashioned way until we can get some form of information system running that doesn’t rely on Stark Tech.”

“And we’re going to have to find Loki.” Clint cleared his throat, standing up. “I’ll keep an eye out. Someone else is going to have to keep the media blind.”

Fury’s eye widened. Agent Hill went stiff.

If the media found out they’d lost Loki…

“I’m on it.” Natasha stood as well, hurrying off. They had to act quick, otherwise those riots were going to be back, and a lot worse.


	3. Battle Lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I took a long break from Bitter Sirens, starting with NaNoWriMo in November. A lot has happened. I’ve got two jobs, a new apartment, and am full swing in graduate level dissertation research, but dammit, I’ve missed this project. Sorry for the long wait. Hopefully I haven’t lost you guys.
> 
> Other Note: If you guys are wondering what I’m up to on this project, check out my tumblr (I’m battery-powered-genius) or my twitter (@arcreactorkysis). I post stuff semi-regularly on my tumblr and am always connected to twitter, so that’s a good way to find out what’s up.

_It was one of those smiles, the sort where Bruce ducked his head but could not quite look away. A chuckle came next, controlled, even, but amused. Bruce always kept himself on a short leash—despite every attempt to loosen it a bit—but that was okay. Tony could not even remember the joke he’d told to get such a reaction, but it was worth it._

_“I’d tell you to tell that to the others, but I think it’d be lost on them.”_

_Tony grinned. Yeah, it would be. That’s what made it special. It was their little joke now._

_If this could last forever, he’d be a happy man._

_Something started to beep. Tony sat up, glancing over the back of the couch. There were lights on in the kitchen. He couldn’t smell anything cooking. Hadn’t they already had dinner? Pretty sure; he’d never been good with remembering food, though, so maybe not._

_Tony swiveled back, glass raised to point._

_There was only green._

Tony bolted upright with a gasp.

0 0 0 0 0

The glass shattered in his hand.

It had been loud and boisterous in the wide dining hall, and yet, it seemed as though that glass, so small, not all that loud, had managed to chase all sound from their vicinity. Every eye was upon him, a portion of their number concerned, the rest worried in an entirely different fashion.

Sif tried to make a smile next to him, if it could be considered an effort at all. She laughed, a worse sound than the glass exploding at the force of his grip, and tried to regroup where the conversation had been interrupted, “As I said, our ties with Midgard are stronger than ever and I feel it will—”

Thor pushed his chair back, standing. He did not need to sit through this. Quickly, he looked to the head of the table for permission.

The Allfather attempted to seem as calm and level headed as ever, but he could see through it. He could see the cracks, as Loki had called them. Odin met his gaze—a tired, pained eye—while he mother would not even look in his direction. Was that guilt she felt for turning Loki over to the wolves for a massacre or resentment that he had to find out about it?

It would seem no one could be trusted. They should be in mourning for losing a prince reinstated to a supposed ally, not gorging themselves on the feast of the hunt. They should be questioning the solidity of such a treaty, if the first term had been to betray one of their own. Loki was one of them, he had proven it by leading the reconstruction of the Bifrost, and yet here they were, acting as though there were no problems within their great kingdom.

Loki was right.

Thor turned, leaving whether he had the approval or not. 

0 0 0 0 0

No matter how loud he cranked the music, no matter how many tools he fired up—hell, no matter how many messes Dummy and Butterfingers made—his workshop still felt silent. Like a void. Did he wake up in the Twilight Zone and miss the memo? That seemed like a serious possibility.

Tony tensed, lifting the box. It wasn’t all that big. There was only one thing in it. Didn’t matter. It was still heavy, and he couldn’t trust his robots not to drop it everywhere. That’d be a travesty, if ever he saw one.

With a grunt, he set the box back down on the main table. It had wheels, he could have just rolled it over, slid the box, done and done, but the manual labor felt like something. It felt like it filled a bit of that void, that nothingness, the damn silence that was blaring over every single noisy thing he did.

His own mind was worse than the Twilight Zone it would seem.

Tony sighed, running a hand up through his hair. He needed to take a shower. That could wait, though. There was a warm cup of coffee on his table and if he went now, the steam would stop, and then there would be even more silence.

Maybe he just needed to breathe.

It was funny how when he didn’t need someone to talk to, there were all the people in the world. He’d had a team, and they hadn’t all tried to kill him. That could be marketed as a novelty somewhere, he was sure. A t-shirt. Whatever, didn’t matter.

They were gone now.

Tony glanced up toward the corner. It did not look any different from the other corners. With the lights dimmed so JARVIS could work his projector magic, all the corners were shadowed. That one, however, was different. It felt like he was being watched. The hairs on his arms stood up whenever he looked in that corner. He checked; they were doing it again. Definitely something unnatural about that corner.

It was funny—and not in the ha ha sort of way—that when he did need someone, anyone, just to take a moment, turn, ask a simple question like ‘how are you holding up’ there was just this damn silence and emptiness to greet him. Some team, right? He would have laughed if he thought he could manage it.

At least his work was still there, a constant, never leaving him unless he threw it away first. He liked it that way. Why didn’t the whole world work like that? It used to.

Tony reached down, dragging his fingers through the box. It was filled with a liquid, black and viscous like oil, but thicker, heavier, colder. It rolled away from his fingers, not sticking to them. No, that would take a considerable amount of force, if he’d calculated everything right. Oh, and if he wanted it to stay in any sort of a form, he’d need to apply an electrical current directly.

The feeling in the corner had not subsided any. He checked on it like checking a watch. That was as good a way as any to check time, seeing as his little observer generally got bored and vanished for periods of time, or whatever fugitive gods did with their time. He wouldn’t know.

It was worth a shot, though.

“I first developed this as an answer to the underarmor issue. I wanted something thin, movable, durable. Problem was, anytime I’d stick a nanocomputer in it, the thing would either swim completely out of place—which screws my armor trajectory—or when I hit it with a current, crushes it, and there goes a few thousand dollars.”

“ _I am well aware of this, Sir. Would you like me to run through diagnostics for a work-around again?_ ”

Tony leveled his gaze at that corner again, scooping out a ball of the liquid. It rolled in his fingers for a moment, and then formed into a sphere. He’d repurposed it. Isn’t that what he did with everything at some point? Sounded about right. It might look like a paintball from hell, but that didn’t even cover half of it.

“Not talking to you, JARVIS. Thanks for the offer though.” Tony rolled the sphere over his knuckles, not a drop escaping its little ball. This was the stuff of miracles. It could be used to help so many people, and yet right now, his only thought was about how it could possible hurt them.

Nothing really had changed, had it?

“ _Certainly, Sir. I will disregard any further statements unless they are directly addressed to me._ ”

Tony nodded, tapping the fingers on his free hand against the table. He could demonstrate, he could keep talking, pretending like Loki was there and interested in what he was babbling about. Who was he kidding? He’d just freed the equivalent of the Norse god of lies and trickery and expected him to stick around for the fallout. Wow. He was supposed to be a genius. This was a whole new level.

“See, I got to thinking, if I can’t encase myself in it, why not encase someone else?” Tony tossed the sphere up, not really following it with his eyes—didn’t need to. He caught it just fine, and in the same motion crushed it.

The reaction was instant. One moment, it was a neat little sphere, the next, it was crawling all over his skin, slicking to a thin casing. It kept moving, wandering, constantly shifting. That was the problem—it just couldn’t sit still. No matter. He’d find a use for it.

The glass wall lit up, security panel appearing. There was Pepper, pressed suit dress, hair spun up, just enough makeup to notice but not distract. Tony’s mouth twitched. He dipped his hand back in the box, the liquid whisking off easily. He’d put a lid over the top by the time the door hissed and slid open.

Pepper paused, looking around.

“What? Expecting more explosions?” Tony waved his hands, turning in one smooth motion. He leaned back against the table and crossed his arms.

“No… Who were you talking to just now?”

Oh. Tony glanced over his shoulder, at the corner. The shadow was still there. He quickly looked away, shrugging. “Myself.”

Pepper did not fixate on the corner, at least not too long. Soon enough she was gliding right on over, tablet held out. “I have the preliminary report of damages to the Tower—”

“Already seen it.” Tony didn’t take the tablet, fiddling with a stray tool instead. She sighed, but didn’t push it, pulling the tablet back in on herself. Like a shield. Interesting how body language changed so quickly.

“Then you would know that SI suffered no losses.”

“Absolutely.”

Pepper paused, rocking up on her feet. She was fighting with something, he could see it, but rather than poke, he kept silent, tossing the tool down. Maybe he’d busy himself with something else.

“Okay. I have my phone if you need anything.”

Tony couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that one. Yeah, sure. He turned back to the table, barely listening as the door closed again. He might have laughed.

0 0 0 0 0

The listlessness of the air around the Bifrost gateway served as a balm for his wounds, though he had not realized he was wounded at first. Thor took a deep, long breath, drinking in the quiet, the call, the vastness of space.

Of the stars in the sprawling cosmos above him, he wondered how many had planets and how many of those planets bore life. Of those life bearing planets, he wondered how many had families torn asunder by precarious treaties. There were no doubt hundreds out there, beyond even the reach of the Bifrost, and of those, he could not imagine Asgard as the only one to face such problems.

“You are grim, Son of Odin.”

Thor turned slowly, the hum of Mjolnir at his side making the sudden twitch of all his nerves seem unnecessary. It was only Heimdall, and he was sworn to an oath of honor to remain guarding the Bifrost, watching over all of Asgard for as long as the Allfather demanded it.

He fought back a bitter smile, ducking his head so his hair, a loose, chaotic halo, shielded his features. It was a useless gesture, for surely Heimdall could see straight through it and into his heart, but he did it anyhow. The Midgardians had certainly left their mark upon him, just as he had upon them.

What a horrid, fetid mark Asgard had left.

“What of Midgard?” Thor forced the words out, though they were thick, unwilling to part with his tongue. He needed to know what the fate of Loki was, and yet, at the same time, did not. It was a constant struggle, tugging him to and fro.

“Midgard is as the deepest waters.” Heimdall did not move, nearly a gold and bronze statue. His lack of reaction was far more relieving than his words. “The surface is pristine.”

“What of underneath?”

Heimdall blinked. His hands squeezed upon his sword once more, as though he wished to heft it in his own defense. That was answer enough for him. Thor let out a small laugh, sounding so broken and misplaced in the hush. 

“And Loki?”

“I cannot see him.”

That could only mean one of two possibilities, neither of which he wished to confront. Either Loki had found his magic once more and thrown a veil upon himself or he had… Thor swallowed, closing his eyes.

They never should have spent him back to Midgard.

0 0 0 0 0

It was that time again. He set his coffee down in front of the monitor, checking his watch. Bruce eased himself into the chair, and immediately set to typing. Once the usual addresses were all typed into place, all he could do was wait for the connection.

The café was quiet, a little less busy than usual, which was nice. A tour must have left the city. Good thing, too, because he was not sure how much longer he could go without being recognized. It was strange, being out on his own after having someone else looking over his shoulder for so long. He felt exposed.

Bruce checked his watch again. It was a minute past. The server was still loading. He really hoped Natasha didn’t decide to just go back to her business as usual without waiting.

An error message popped up right before it finished loading. Of course. Bruce set his mug down again before he could get a good sip, typing in all the information again just to be sure. He didn’t have to wait this time.

Couldn’t connect to the server. Bruce sighed, sinking back into his chair. First her connection cuts out unexpectedly, then SI’s systems go down. He’d seen in the paper that the Tower went dark for an hour.

He’d say it was power failure, but he knew better. Rather, he knew Tony better than that.

Maybe he’d just have to try again.

0 0 0 0 0

The thickness of the Quinjet’s outer walls dampened most of the sound of its engines, but she was not about to point that out. She sat perfectly still, going over a mental catalogue of every hidden compartment on her feminine business attire, from the bangles she wore to the heels of her shoes, playing out small scenarios to be sure everything was ready.

Clint was next to her, and seemed to be doing exactly the same thing, fingers flexing protectively over the handle of his bow, feeling the grooves designed specifically for his hand and bonding with it. Every so often, she would notice his arm muscles twitch. Behind his sunglasses, she could not see his eyes, but she was certain they were moving, darting back and forth as he ran through the same set of contingencies.

Coulson kept on his speech, louder than necessary, without even noticing. He was preoccupied. They all were. This, however, was not the time or the place for such distractions.

“If at all possible, I want there to be zero violence. This is merely a civil meeting.” Coulson was repeating himself and pacing, both of which were making her tune it out all the more. She needed to concentrate and focus. “We need to discretely find out where Loki is and determine whether or not Mr. Stark has been compromised. Am I clear?”

“Crystal.” Natasha and Clint both said it at the same time. It would be good to be on assignment with him again. It had been entirely too long. Too bad the circumstances could not have been better.

0 0 0 0 0

His cup of tea was empty. Again. Bruce pursed his lips at the bottom of the cup, with its granules of insoluble herbs. He checked his watch. He had five minutes left. Over the last forty-five minutes he’d gone through two cups of tea, five scientific journals, and three youtube videos, checking back at intervals to see if Natasha was there.

He was starting to think that even if Natasha was there, another issue was preventing the connection.

Sighing, he sat forward again, typing in a new url. It was amazing how his typing speed had gone up. He’d never really thought about it, but being around so much technology had changed him in more ways than he realized.

His email account loaded without any issues. It seemed all SI services were up and running again, at least from what he could see. If there had been more than an hour of downtime, he was sure he would have heard the international uproar by now.

Bruce typed in Natasha’s email account, double checking it before tapping out an email. He had three minutes at this point. The internet was abysmally slow here. He’d become spoiled. Great. Vanishing into the wilderness was going to be a lot more difficult than he first thought.

Send.

0 0 0 0 0

“ _Sir, I believe you told me to inform you if a Code Green phenomena occurred._ ”

His mouth went dry. Code Green. He’d titled that as a joke, a long time ago, when it felt like it was only a joke. He’d never thought he’d have to use it. Here it was.

Tony sucked in a deep breath. Which one had it been? He set down his tools, shaking his head. He knew which one it was.

Before he could respond, JARVIS cut the speakers on. That was a sound he knew. Well. He’d designed the damn things. 

S.H.I.E.L.D. was making its move.

“Scratch that JARVIS. I’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

“ _Certainly, Sir._ ”

0 0 0 0 0

If they wished to keep the media in blackout, landing a Quinjet in the courtyard of Stark’s Malibu mansion was not a good first step. It would turn their attention towards them and start bringing questions, none of which S.H.I.E.L.D. was ready to answer.

This was Coulson’s call, not her own. If this was how he thought they should do it, they would carry out the mission.

The door opened just as the feet touched down. Natasha stretched a smile across her red lips, making the short steps most women in heels were resigned to. If the media was watching, they would see a very sharply dressed businesswoman with a folder in her arm, unless they decided to look closer.

Clint stayed back in the shadows of the Quinjet, as ordered, bow at the ready. If there were any signs of trouble, he would know what to do. Lethal force was out of the question—according to Coulson. Natasha trusted Clint would make the right call.

The front door opened before she was even halfway to it. Natasha pressed the smile a little harder. If she started this off on a good note, they might stay on one.

It was Pepper.

Natasha stopped walking, smile immediately dropping. Pepper looked confused and hurt, as she did when surprises (normally Stark’s fault) rained down on her. This was most definitely one of those instances.

“Hello Miss Potts.”

“Natalie.” Pepper wrung her hands in front of her before smoothing out her dress, standing at a professional ready. The door clicked shut behind her, but she did not move away from it. It almost looked like she meant to guard it.

“If you would excuse me, I have important business with Mr. Stark.” Natasha did her best not to look as tense as she felt. There did not seem to be many lights on within the mansion, but she knew there were also subterranean levels. How many, their intel did not say.

Pepper put on her own smile, just as armored as Natasha’s own. It was a wonder, at times, that other organizations had not attempted to recruit her—or if they had, that she was still here.

“Tony is busy at the moment.” Pepper put emphasis on his first name, as though that put her on a higher playing field. It was a dangerous game she played.

“I am certain you believe you are doing what is best Miss Potts, but I assure you—”

“I’m sorry. It doesn’t seem like you heard me over the engines.” Pepper took a few steps closer, gesturing back towards the Quinjet. She stopped again, much closer this time, hands clasped easily in front of her. This time, she very pointedly raised her voice louder. “Mr. Stark is busy at the moment. I can take a message for you, or you can drop by during consultation hours.”

“Pepper—”

“They are every other Thursday, as I am sure Director Fury informed you. Now, if there is nothing else?”

Natasha could faintly hear the creek of Clint’s bow. She raised her hand sharply, a gesture for him to hold. There it was again, pressure releasing slowly, carefully. She could imagine the motion in her head. That would be distracting, however.

“Look what we have here.”

0 0 0 0 0

A new message appeared in his inbox with one minute left on the timer. Bruce clicked on it before he could even see the sender, the heading. It wasn’t until the message had loaded that he realized what it was.

It was a warning message from the SI Hub, telling him that he was attempting to send a message to a suspended user. Bruce read through the whole clause, all four paragraphs of it. It was dry, legal, and worrying.

The monitor went dark as the computer shut down. His hour was up.

0 0 0 0 0

Natasha’s gaze shot upward, Pepper merely closing her eyes, nostrils flaring with one of her sighs.

Tony stepped out from the front door, his full suit impeccable, pressed, each and every line moving with his easy saunter. A wide smile flashed across his face, all white teeth and no warmth. In the moment before he put on his dark sunglasses, she could see that his eyes were the same brown that they had always been, not even a trace of Tesseract blue upon them. She was not sure if she should be relieved or worried by that.

“I’ll take it from here, Pep.” Tony gave her a quick pat on the shoulder, gesturing her off. Pepper shot him a worried look—which Natasha took special note of—before heading back inside. The moment the door shut, Tony turned his full attention back. “And what brings you out to sunny Malibu?”

“I think you know.” Natasha rested her hands on her hips, waiting. It would be easy enough to step right out of her heals and into a forward roll, bridging half the distance between them. With a vault up off the ground, that would get her the rest of the way, right into a precise kick. She smiled again.

Stark put his hands in his pockets. She couldn’t be sure, but it almost looked like he was wearing gloves. He shrugged, nonchalant as ever.

“No, actually, I don’t. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

“ _We can’t get a clear scan on the mansion. He must have installed signal jammers._ ”

Natasha ignored Coulson’s voice in her ear. If Stark had been jamming signals at the Tower, he would most definitely be jamming them here. All the more if he did, in fact, have Loki.

He could play coy for the rest of his life without breaking a sweat. This wasn’t going to go anywhere unless she confronted the issue directly.

“Where’s Loki?”

There were two sharp intakes of breath through her earpiece. If they didn’t like her methods, they should have sent someone else. Natasha merely pursed her lips, waiting.

“I thought S.H.I.E.L.D. was handling security on him.”

The bluff was too good. She really hoped that she wasn’t barking up the wrong tree, that Fury hadn’t fabricated this whole thing with Stark’s name on it because of his testimony. There were too many coincidences lined up for it to be anyone but Stark, but…

“We know you have him.”

Stark laughed, pressing a hand to his chest, over the arc reactor. That hand was dark, with the faint gleam of metal, though not bulky enough to be part of a suit. “Please.”

“If you relinquish Loki now, we’ll overlook the entire situation.”

“ _Agent Romanoff, you are not authorized to bargain with—_ ”

“Just hand him over, Stark. You don’t want to do this.”

“Do what?” Stark’s smile was gone, tone entirely serious. It was like a light switch with him, one moment to the next.

“This is a declaration of war against S.H.I.E.L.D., I hope you realize that.”

“War?” The smirk that twisted half of Stark’s face sent a chill up her spine. “You want to see what I know about war?” Tony lifted his hands up to the sides, a showy gesture which might have cut the tension, if she did not recognize it from the video footage of his presentation of the Jericho Missile. “If you want war, I’ll give you war.”


	4. Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long.
> 
> This is short, yes, but very, very necessary. More coming very soon. Everything's really setting in motion now.

Of all the places he had been to on Midgard, this was by far the most interesting. He ran his fingers softly down the glass of the window, from the level of his eyes to as far down as he could speak, still walking as he did so. The view of the water, the waves crashing violently upon the cliffs below, the sun cascading across that reflective surface in the full spectrum of colors, reminded him of Asgard—a thought he refused to dwell upon.

There were so many more interesting things to explore.

The clicking of heels made him pause, going absolutely still. He glanced over his shoulder, watching with keen eyes as Pepper walked into the room, pausing next to the low-backed couch. Her strawberry blond hair was up in a ponytail, her painted lips drawn into a firm, disconcerted line. The line of her gaze drifted directly past him—through him, without seeing him—and then she started off to the stairs at the opposite end of the massive chamber. She walked right through the shadow he cast, not noticing as it cut over her bright heels and light ankles.

Once the click of her heels was no longer noticeable to him, he started moving again, this time towards the spiraling stairs with the waterfall running through the center of it. Such a display of opulence, and yet, he had not noticed Stark looking at the water, or even seeming to notice it, a single time.

 _This_ , of every place in this sprawling palace, was perhaps the most riveting—and, he reminded himself, it was not merely because the man of iron spent nearly all of his time within its confines. It was a temple to his achievement as a technomancer, a monolith to his ingenuity, his brilliance. Each and every detail within this space was of use, was noticed, likely customized by the master of it all.

At the middle of it was the man himself, hair in a dark, chaotic halo above a brow glossed with the slightest sheen of sweat. He was in a black, sleeveless vest of some sort, the bright blue light of his chest shining through it like a star set in the void.

Loki circled, fingers tracing gentle lines across the glass, his reflection dancing across the glass in synchronicity with his movements, his shadow trailing along erratically with the constantly changing light of Stark’s sanctuary.

Though he was free of his bonds, every fiber of him pulsing with the magic he would need to spirit himself to whatever dark corner of the universe he so wished, he found that he could not leave, a moth drawn inextricably to Stark’s flame. He knew what happened to the moth in the end. Still, he was here, and could not leave.

0 0 0 0 0

The screwdriver handle rolled gently in his fingers, not even a quarter of a turn, but just enough. He felt the tiny screw seat into place, and stopped, lifting the screwdriver out carefully. If his calculations were correct—and they always were—the new mounting for his repulsor flight stabilizers would hold up to the new hidden punch they packed.

Tony flexed his wrist, rolling it slowly. The metal outer plating of the gauntlet moved with him, shifting as they needed to for a full range of motion. It was slow, but the gauntlet was not hooked directly into the undersuit, just his arc reactor for power. Tony checked the display, out of habit. His power levels were fine.

Work was done for the night. Tony tossed down the screwdriver, ignoring its clatter against the table. He stretched. He’d wrap up for now. He was at a stopping point. He could try sleeping again. That always went well.

Movement. Three-o’clock. Tony braced for the inevitable lecture from Pepper about being in the workshop constantly. Like she was his mother or something. Yes, she was his assistant again, but really, they were over it. This was just how he was, take it or leave it.

There was no lecture. He waited for it, not taking off the gauntlet quite yet. It was a complicated process; he needed his full concentration. Nothing. There was silence, the whir of Butterfingers dusting something or another, and Dum-E doing who knows what. It was normal.

Tony turned, seeing it again.

In an instant, he had the repulsor up, the high pitched wail of it charging in his ears. He stopped cold.

He thought he’d seen Loki’s reflection. He wasn’t in full armor. He was standing there, right there, he saw it, he knew he saw it.

And now it was just himself, staring right back, haggard, circles under the eyes, weapon raised.

Tony swallowed roughly, disengaging the charge before it could let out the blast. “I know you’re there.”

“Do you, now?” The voice was a whisper against his ear, the gust of it warm and the hairs on the back of his neck were like lightning rods.

Tony spun sharply, arm up. There was nothing there.

“Chasing ghosts?” This time it was his other ear. It was just a whisper, at the edge of his hearing. It probably wasn’t even there, except the moist warmth that lingered.

He took a shuttering breath, closing his eyes. The darkness of his own mind was worse.

0 0 0 0 0

That was strange. Pepper leaned down, having to squat awkwardly in her pencil skirt. Right now, she didn’t really care, her eyes focused on the glass. There were small smudges on it, and when she looked closely, nose almost bumping it, there were bits of frost as well.

It had been a warm day out. The air inside was comfortable, not cold. There was no reason for…

Pepper stood abruptly, turning. Though she looked everywhere, she was just confronted with the perfectly normal, undisturbed living room. “JARVIS?”

“Yes Miss Potts?”

“What happened in New York?”

0 0 0 0 0

For a moment, Loki let the illusion fall, its cascading off his person like the water over the cliff rocks. He walked in slow circles, steps absolutely silent, each placement of his foot calculated, exactly as he wanted it. There was no shroud of invisibility about him, draping him in nothingness, and yet Stark would know no different, with his eyes squeezed shut as though if he did not see Loki, he would not exist.

Or, perhaps, he was merely trying to hear where his eyes were failing him.

A small chuckle was kept in, ready at the tip of his tongue, but reined in. Now was not the appropriate time, not when he had Stark’s full attention.

What kind of attention that was, of course, was still up for heated debate. Stark’s first reflex had been to raise the disembodied arm of his metal suit, a way to shoot energy, Loki recognized, and yet, he had not. It was strange. His first instinct had been fight, and even now, as the fight was certainly ebbing away, flight had not yet seized upon him.

Just as Stark restlessly studied his machines, Loki studied Stark, and he had yet to find even enough answers to cover the tip of an iceberg.

He stopped, just behind Stark. Like static electricity, he could feel Stark’s eyes open, only to behold nothing. Loki did not throw the illusion back upon himself yet, did not continue walking around Stark. Though his shoulders were a taut line, ready to snap, Stark made no gesture that he would swing around, engage in a defense of any sort. This was safe, for now.

Through all his observation, he had wondered one single thing, and had found nothing, not a single clue to go by. This was his chance. He had Stark’s undivided attention, a rare and fleeting occurrence, he had learned.

“Why, Stark?” Loki leaned closer, breathing the words directly onto the shell of his ear. “Why did you do it?”

Stark looked up, his jaw set firm, eyes more focused than he had ever seen before. Loki followed his gaze. It was to their reflections, there in the glass, Stark with Loki hovering just behind him… and yet, he knew Stark was not looking at him.

Stark was looking at himself.

That was all the answer he needed.


End file.
